


Before

by Enedda



Series: A Study in Marcus [7]
Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Healing, Lots of healing, M/M, Peter is an angel and everyone should have one, Religion, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enedda/pseuds/Enedda
Summary: What happened after the boat, but before anything else.





	Before

**Author's Note:**

> I've had pieces of this conversation in my head for ages, it's time it was out.  
> (be warned: depictions/mentions of self harm)

When Marcus came to Peter the first evening, he didn't dare to come in. He sat on the warm stone and looked at the house, the fence, the forest. He tried looking inside himself, but this time it didn't work. He felt empty. Not the good empty, the bad one. He felt old and so, so tired. Worn off like his shoes. Worn paper thin as his sweater. He looked at his hands; they were shaking.

Yes, he was afraid.

He tried to pray, but even prayer didn't come this time. He was repeating the words like a broken toy, over and over again. Nothing. Nothing but the life he had to take and the sin that came with it. He took the rosary out. Maybe it will help. His friend on a shiny-sharp cross.

Somewhere from within the house, he heard a dog barking and Peter's voice calming it down. No words, just hum

He felt alone. If he weren't too tired to go, he would return to the port, sleep there and escape this island where demons still roamed.

"Marcus? Is that you?"

Marcus raised his head. Peter stood on the porch with a medium-sized dog fighting to run to the unexpected guest. Both were encircled in the soft light coming from the corridor and looked... different. Different than him, that was. Like they've belonged. He never would.

"It is you! Come in; it's getting cold!"

"No, Peter. I... I just can'tI've... did things. I shouldn't have come."

Marcus got up and reached for his backpack so  suddenly  that he lost balance for a moment and hit his knee on the rock.

"For the love of... he sucked the rest in, inappropriate. "What are you doing, man?"

"Helping a friend." Peter's arms were holding him up, restoring order, giving peace.

No, no peace for sinners.

Marcus tried breaking free, for a split second even thought about hitting Peter, but... that didn't happen.

Something else did.

Like on the boat, Peter kissed him. A light, feather light peck on the lips. Reassurance.

"Come in, and we'll talk. Are you okay to walk?"

"I should be."

 

"Ah, this mutt  is called  Star. Found her on Christmas Eve."

"Hello, girl."

 ***

 "I've promised you some bourbon. If it makes talking easier, you can drink the whole bottle."

"Don't know what to say."

" Just  talk."

"...." Marcus took a sip, thinking. No, no time for that. "I killed Andy Kim."

"I know that. Mouse was here, told me a few things. Enough to understand."

"I left Tomas."

"I know that too. And  I think  I know why you did it. I don't know why you've left... me. Then, on the boat. And then, in the car. I want to understand."

Marcus shivered and looked up. Meeting Peter's eyes with fear, he found warmth.

"Peter, I am always cold. With each abuse, I've lost a bit of warmth. Without it, relationships are castles built on an icy lake. One day it all goes bad. So, I figured it's better not to start. Too many broken bones, too much warmth lost."

He wiped his nose with his sleeve - of course, he started crying - and felt something nobody should see.

"Your arm! You are bleeding!"

"Indeed I am."

"Does it hurt?"

"It did when I did it."

"Why, for God's sake?"

"Precisely  for that. A blood sacrifice. You put your suffering on the altar, and you will  be saved . An epitome of Catholicism."

"Wait here." Peter got up from his chair and disappeared. Star stayed, curious about the visitor. She  just  looked at him with big, brown eyes. A few moments later, as if she's decided upon something, she came to him and laid her head on his knee.

Marcus was crying  openly  now.

"Give me your sweater. And be careful while you undress, please. No more blood." Peter was back with a little first-aid kit.

"Peter..."

"No more, Marcus. No more secrets."

Marcus undresses to his vest, obedient like a child.

Peter gasped. Marcus' body was a maze of scars, old and new. No telling if self-inflicted or... job-related. The fresh wound started below the elbow and went about 3 centimetres down. Didn't look particularly bad,  just ...scary.

"My rosary, Peter. Helps me silence the unwanted noise."

Peter exhaled and started cleaning the blood off. "If it opens one more time, you will need stitches."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." He raised his head, stopping his hands a moment. "Stay the night, please."

"Peter... why? Am I a stray to you, like Star? A wounded soul to take care of?"

"No, Marcus," - Peter finished bandaging his arm. "Not for me, for you. I will give you breakfast, yes, and I will take care of you. You will cry and thank me and maybe draw my dog. All because you are valid and you are loved and it's time you knew it."

And for the very first time in his life, Marcus was rendered speechless.

And he stayed the night. And the night after.

And the one after that.


End file.
